Ties
by insane4lyfe
Summary: Edit. After his BFF is cast out from the group, Cartman vows to try and regain their lost friendship. Meanwhile, Kenny makes new friends and doesn't seem to want to go back. Will Cartman ever get his wish? Rated T for strong language. Full summary inside.
1. I Hate Mornings

**Full Summary: **There is a tie that binds all these people together. The tie is one day - severed. What they don't know, is by severing it, they would all be affected dearly. Now, they have no one to turn to but themselves. And they'll try to avoid that since they're running from the guilt and the emptiness. This is the story of that tie, those that were bound to him, and the new friendships he began to replace the old.

But there was one person who would not let him go. Clutching the remains of a broken friendship in his hand, along with the other half of his 'best friends' necklace, he will try to mend it. Because when you lose the one dearest to you, you will stop at nothing to try and get them back.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own South Park or any of its characters. I do, though, own my mind, this story and if I'm lucky, this concept. Thank you for choosing to read "Ties".

**Thank you note/Upcoming: **Thank you to anyone who previously read this story. You are awesome. As a treat, as soon as I'm finished editing all the chapters I will finish writing and even hopefully post **Chapter 13: The Party **not too long after! And it shouldn't take too long to do **Chapter 14: Fast Forward**, because I've had an idea for that one for a long time now.

It shouldn't take more than a month to finish the story off, considering the epilogue is already written, ;D! So please enjoy the rest of the story!

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**Chapter 1: I Hate Mornings.**

(September 5th)

Christophe's P.O.V

I awake and stare at my ceiling. I pause and let out a sigh. Ze only moment of peace I 'appen to receive in a day. Within mere moments zis will be shattered by ze scream of zat retched woman 'oo calls 'erself my muzer. I roll my eyes. Speak of ze she-witch...

Normal P.O.V.

A pretty woman opens up his door and shoots the young French man a disapproving look. "Christophe! Get out of bed zis instant and get ready for school!" She says impatiently. "You are going to miss ze bus!" She pauses for a moment and looks around his room before adding, "and straight home after school, monsieur! You are to clean zis pigsty!"

"Understand?" she demands softly. Somehow, that makes it all the more threatening.

"Oui, muzer," he replies. She searches his expression and, satisfied, leaves the room. "Alzough… eet's not as if I'm ever allowed to go anywhere, anyways," he mutters resentfully when he was sure she was gone.

Scowling, he gets up and starts pulling on random clothes from his floor. "Stupid woman…" was one of the occasional things he muttered during his task.

Finished, he makes his bed for fear she'd bitch at him for that as well. Both tasks completed, he grabs his bag and heads downstairs.

"Au revoir, Christophe. Have a good day, d'accord?" came an all too pleasant voice from the living room.

Christophe grabbed a croissant from the kitchen and when he got to the door responded, "Oui, I will…" before closing the door and muttering "bitch."

* * *

Kenny's P.O.V.

I got up and yawned loudly before getting up and scratching my unmentionables. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck… Another school year…" I groan as though it would stop it from being as such.

…No luck. It was still a Wednesday. It was the first full day of classes at that. Ugh. I _hate_ school.

Oh well. If you can't change it, roll with it. I grab some random clothes and my parka and put them on before grabbing my bag and running out the door, not wanting to hear my mom or dad yell at me again. It sucks being me, trust me.

I booked it to the bus stop, because if I didn't, I wouldn't have made it.

I shoved in front of some other kids and don't bother trying to figure out who they are. When I get on, I instantly choose one of the seats at the back of the bus. I didn't want to sit next to anyone today.

I stared out the window and watched the world go by for a couple minutes ignoring the loud bunch of people around me. Those damn idiots. Can't they ever shut up?

After a couple of stops and a bunch more loud people came on board, I felt eyes on me. So I turned and looked at whoever it was. He seemed to be older then me, but not by much. "Yeah?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow. Not many people spoke to me, so it was different talking to a complete stranger.

When he spoke, he had this rich French accent that was intriguing to listen to. It was fairly deep and the accent almost slurred his words. "You're in ze place I want to sit," he said simply. It seemed as though he could make _anything_ sound sexy with that voice.

"Then sit." I contemplated him silently for another moment. He had slightly messy dark brown hair, a _tan, _he was well built and had these really nice grey-blue eyes the color of rain. Yeah. That's what they were; rain.I bet a lot of girls liked him. Lucky bastard.

But I was forced to laugh after the bus threw him off balance and he nearly fell on me, trying to cover it up by saying; "Fine. I guess I will."

…Damn him and his stupid sexy accent, and damn his stupid rugged looks too. There's no _way_ I'd ever be able to compete with that. _Ever_.

Christophe's P.O.V.

I glared at ze too brightly colored boy 'oo 'appened to be in my spot. He seemed to notice and turned to look at me. "Yeah?" he questioned me in a muffled voice. I simply looked at him. "You're in ze place I want to sit."

He still looked at me. "Then sit." I stared at him for anu-zer moment before I was forced to sit because of a sharp turn. I was slightly disgruntled and after a moment said, "Fine. I guess I will."

He seemed to find zis amusing because I 'eard muffled laughter. "What?" I growled. I thought I 'eard him say somezing along ze lines of "nothing"… but eet's 'ard to understand him with zat stupid hood on.

Normal P.O.V.

Christophe studied the boy next to him before stating simply, "Take eet off." Kenny looked over in mild surprise before grinning slightly. "I barely know you and you want me to take off my clothes? Wow. First day of high school and someone already wants in my pants! …Heh heh, the rumors were true."

Christophe shot a slightly disgusted look towards the blonde. "Non, moron. I meant ze fucking hood. Eet's 'ard to understand you." Kenny shot a slightly surprised look at the dark-haired boy next to him. "You can understand me?"

"Of course. Eet's just a little difficult." Christophe replied, sounding slightly confused, "Why?" Kenny tilted his head to the side slightly. "Not many people can other than my friends," he said pointedly, mentioning to a few boys a couple rows away.

"Why aren't you sitting next to zem, zen?" The 15 year old asked gruffly. He seemed to hit a nerve because the shorter boy suddenly stiffened. "Just… because. There's no room."

Kenny seemed to sense Christophe's annoyance because he suddenly took off his hood. He even opened his coat for good measure. "It's not that big of a deal, okay?" Kenny paused, "Well, you know why I'm here… but why are you?"

Christophe took a moment to study his companion before replying. He had long-ish blonde hair, a thin, slightly muscular frame (of what he could see), he was more tanned then anyone else in this town (which was weird since he seemed to have lived here all of his life) and he had these remarkable blue eyes the color of clear arctic waters.

"Even zough your friends are familiar to me, I do not know many people 'ere. I 'aven't been 'ere since zat stupid war. Zis reminds me… I need to kick ze shit out of ze fat one later."

Kenny looked confused. "I know why most people want to kick the shit out of Cartman, but why do you? By the way, my name's Kenny."

Christophe snorted, "Christophe. …Zat fat cock sucker got me killed!" A pause before, "I fucking hate guard dogs!"

And the only thing Kenny had to say to that was: "You've died too?"

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**A/N: **This is a slightly edited version of my original story. I just had to fix some mistakes here and there and maybe revise some things. Again, I thank everyone who read this previously. It means a lot to me. And if you fav'd this story or anything like that, I love you! :D

Haha, but I bet you didn't care about that. I just felt like ranting. By the way, if this chapter wasn't that exciting, it gets better. I promise.

See that little purple button? That one right there? Please click it. Or keep reading. Either one works. But I'm not conceited. If you don't like it, you don't have to read anymore and I'd appreciate it if you didn't flame me.


	2. The Truth

**A/N: **This chapter is really short, but I think it's a pretty good one. It reveals some things about what happened in the past, and it's pretty dramatic.

I mean – who doesn't like drama?

Anyways, I don't own South Park and all that jazz. Because if I did, I would make this the second movie. Haha.

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**Chapter 2: The Truth.**

(September 12th)

Normal P.O.V.

Christophe stared at the boy across from him curiously. It had been a week since they had met, and he had practically clung to him like some long lost best friend at every chance he could. But, at the moment, he was devouring the lunch said French boy had bought for him like his life depended on it. Which, considering the fact it was Kenny, it probably did.

After a pause, Christophe asked Kenny, "Your friends are over zere. Why do you choose to sit with me still?"

The question resulted in Kenny choking on his food slightly. "Uh… be… cause… I feel a connection with you?" It was obviously a forced answer.

"…Tell me ze truth or else I will ask zem why zey don't seem to care." Christophe paused thoughtfully before continuing, "I 'ave to go over zere anyways." So he got up without another word and started towards the table where the three boys, along with their friends, sat.

"H-hey!" Kenny exclaimed, before he groaned and slumped down in his seat, aware that Christophe didn't care. "Stupid Frenchie…"

"'Ey, you. Fat-ass."

Eric turned to Christophe with a 'don't-fucking-push-me' scowl. "You talkin' to me?"

Christophe paused in mock thought and looked around the table before replying, "Oui. I don't see any other fat-ass 'ere, do you?"

Eric got up and was immediately restrained by Stan. "Let go of me Stan! This sonuvabitch is going to get his ass kicked," Eric growled, "into next fucking week!"

Kyle sighed irritably, "Cartman… don't."

"But –"

Suddenly recognition dawned over Stan. "Hey – you're that mercenary kid from the war!" he paused, "Err… Christophe, right?" He let go of Eric then, because he realized restraint wasn't necessary.

Christophe smirked slightly. "Oui, zat would be me. You are Stanly zen, correct?"

Stan looked at him thoughtfully. "Yeah." At the mention of who it was, a little of the color retreated from Eric's face. _'Fuck. That means he can probably fight. ..Fuck!'_

Christophe leaned forward until he was within a foot of Stan. "Well, I 'ave a question for you Stan. Eet involves a …friend of yours," he drawled.

Stan stared at him and stated simply, "A friend?" which earned him a nod. "Which friend?"

"Kenneth."

* * *

Normal P.O.V.

Christophe returned to his table after promising Eric a fight after school. Right at 3 o'clock. It was just _the_ time for a fight. It was classic. …And that's just the reason why _Eric_ suggested it.

"Kenny…"

Said boy stood up quickly, his hood falling off in the process. His eyes were fiery and seemed to become so much bluer. His blonde hair caught the cafeteria lights and gained an almost golden sheen. It was obvious he was hurt. "Sh-shut up! Why can't you just leave well enough alone?!" At Kenny's raised voice, most everyone in the cafeteria turned to them. Including Kenny's 'friends'. Drama kept everyone alive within these walls after all.

He lowered his voice slightly, but it still shook. "Why couldn't you let me pretend? Let me be happy until the day it would finally sink in. The day I would realize my fucking 'friends' abandoned me!"

Christophe stepped closer. "Kenny," he said firmly.

The blonde haired boy just continued his rant, unaware of everyone to the point where his voice started riding again. "Yeah? Well, you know what? I don't need _you_, I don't need _them_… I DON'T NEED ANYBODY."

Christophe reached out to try and grab hold of his hysterical friend. Kenny easily dodged his arm and flipped off the table where Stan, Kyle and Eric sat.

Afterwards he just turned and ran out of the cafeteria.

Christophe groaned, "Fuck."

* * *

**A/N: **What'll happen next?! Only I and the people who have already read this story will know! Ha-ha.

But this chapter was mildly edited. And stuff…

Click the button! Do it...


	3. The Beginning of the End

**Chapter 3: The Beginning of the End.**

(September 12th)

Kenny's P.O.V.

Tears streamed down my face as I ran. I don't know where I'm going, but I don't care so long as it's away from _there_. Memories flood me and I nearly drown in them. …It's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other.

**Flash back**

**(August 10th)**

**I come back from one of my stupid dying spells and watch the others in the group as I reach them. They're laughing and having fun… with… Craig's group? Well, that's okay since I'm friends with them too. I've never just… _watched_ though. It's amusing, because Eric's got Kyle all riled up again, and Stanny-boy's trying to calm the fiery red head down. Heh. Same old, same old.**

**Craig seems amused by Stan's efforts, particularly because they don't seem to be working. Token is also trying to calm Kyle down now, because most everyone knows what Kyle can do when he's pushed too far. Everyone except for Eric, that is. At least I'm pretty sure since he always just keeps pushing him and pushing him and just never stops. Eh? This weird thought just crossed my mind. What if Eric's turned on by Kyle when he's pissed? Or maybe he's just showing affection in the only way he knows how (to show Kyle, anyways). I say that because, when I'm alone with him, he can be pretty nice sometimes. But I guess that's just because we're "BFF"s.**

**Eh? Clyde was just talking to Tweek. …Where did they go? I looked around and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a soft "hi" from almost right next to me.**

**"Jesus Christ, Clyde!" I exclaim, grabbing the fabric over my chest. "You nearly gave me a freaking heart attack!"**

**"Sorry, Ken," he responded before adding, "shut up for a sec, Tweek!" to the fussing blonde next to him.**

**"Gah! S-sorry, guys…" The twitchy kid responded.**

**I smile at him. "S'okay, Tweeky. So…" I look between them at the sudden commotion in the clearing before continuing, "What's up you two?"**

**Clyde shrugged. "Eh."**

**I nodded knowingly. "Oooh. Okay."**

**Clyde smiled and gestured to the clearing. "Why aren't you over there…?" But I could have sworn I saw a sad look in his eyes when he trailed off. I'd quickly know why.**

**"W-why did'ja ask him that, C-Clyde?" Tweek asked nervously.**

**I looked between them. "What's goin' on?"**

**Clyde looked over at Tweek with a slight scowl. "What the hell?"**

**Tweek twitched violently. "B-but d-doesn't he have a r-reason to know that his group kicked him out?"**

**I was completely taken aback. "W-what?!"**

**Clyde sighed. "I'm sorry Ken. It's only a rumor…"**

**"Nuh-uh… Stan t-told Craig when I was over at his house…" Tweek looked apologetic. "I wasn't su-supposed to hear but…" Clyde's look mirrored mine as Tweek continued. "Craig sounded sad. So did Stan. He said it was b-because you weren't around a lot…"**

**The chubby brunette sounded mildly hopeful when he asked, "But… Craig let him in, right?"**

**Tweek looked to the ground and, from that action, we both knew the answer.**

**End Flash Back**

Ever since then, I'd say a quiet "hi" or "what's up?" on occasion, and I'd hear quiet answers. Eventually they stopped answering, and I stopped asking. Soon, I didn't even look at them anymore. I didn't _want_ to look at them. I was afraid I'd stop being able to pretend if I did.

…I grabbed the necklace I had never bothered to take off. _'Best Friends Forever' my ass, Cartman…'_ I had taken it off for a day after that, but I put it back on since my neck felt so bare. I was too used to the slight thump of the half a heart around my neck.

_It's like how my heart is now. …It almost completes it._ "Aw, who am I kidding?" I ripped the necklace off and hung it around a branch of the tree Cartman always sits at during lunch. He was bound to find it. It was one of those things that would symbolize there was no turning back.

Although why would I even want to?

Better yet...

Would they let me if I did?

I sighed. "I'm sorry Eric. But... you know how it is. I can't live the lie anymore. I just... can't. I'm sure you'd understand. Thank you."

...For everything.

And so I turn and walk away from the only thing I ever knew, the only comfort I ever felt.

And all I know now is the loneliness.

Maybe everything will be fine one day. And on that day I'll learn to live without you guys. But even then...

I think I'd come back just to say 'I'm sorry'.

...And for some reason I think you'd forgive me.

The world would keep turning after that.

But for now, I keep walking, because I don't want to see you when you find the beginning of the end.

The half heart I once so proudly wore, discarded on the branch of the tree where it was first given to me.

...Goodbye, Eric Theodore Cartman. My 'best friend'.

* * *

**A/N: **:O It's so sad... I just read it again. :'(

So here we are! Kenny just did the one thing that he knew would break Eric's heart. WHAT'LL HAPPEN NEXT?! Who knows? Except for me. D: (If I can remember...) And those that have read this before.

Read on, dear reader, read on. :)


	4. Pain and Conflict

**A/N:** Things start to get heavy in this chapter. This is one of my favourite chapters. I love the level of detail I put into it!

Emotions run deep as Kyle confronts Eric. What were they thinking about during and after the cafeteria scene? What will Eric's reaction be to finding the 'present' Kenny left him? Read to find out!

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**Chapter 4: Pain and Conflict.**

(September 12th)

Eric's P.O.V.

When that French fag came over, I had the sudden urge to fight him. It was probably the way he carried himself. With that air of authoritah, the breath that smelt like cigarettes, the subtle cologne and the way he walked over here. He came over with the sense of _purpose._

I knew something was wrong with it. A grade 10 coming over to talk to us? Especially after he was talking to… him. Heh… it's kind of sad, really. I can't even say his name anymore. A part of me seemed to have left when he did.

I knew it. When he came over asking about my _former_ BFF, I… just _told_ him. I said he wasn't our friend. He hadn't been since that one time after he died and came back a month later in early August.

You'd be surprised to know that it wasn't me who suggested it. It was Kahl that did. That's right. _Too-fucking-goodie-two-shoes_ Kahl. I got _slightly_ pissed at him, naturally. I mean, who wants their BFF kicked out of the group you hang out in? Especially since there's only an Emo pussy and a smart-assed Jew left to hang out with? That's why I was relieved when Craig's group came to hang with us.

I mean, I had Clyde to talk to… so it was okay. I guess. We were surprised when Token asked if our groups could unite. I guess his reasoning made sense. High school is dawg-eat-dawg, man. Serslay.

But I was still pissed. I didn't want _him_ to leave. But… Kahl had his reasons… and… I was scared I'd be next if I didn't vote with them. So I just… _pretended_ to agree. I helped vote him out. The next day, Stan had told Craig, and when we were all hangin' out, Clyde and Tweek told us they had just talked to…him. …My heart sank with those words.

So here I am. Walking to the spot I go to at lunch. Somehow I thought he might go there. Or I was just hoping. I sat down and smiled despite everything. This place was completely devoid of snow all the tiem, so while everyone was freezing their _wet_ asses off, I was sitting and freezing my dry ass off. Trust me, it makes sense.-

Huh? I looked up, because a quick shine caught my eye. I looked up at a… necklace? I grabbed it and pulled it down. When I first looked at it, my heart almost stopped completely.

...It said 'best'. I groped under my shirt for something and pulled it out, comparing the two sides. _They're a match… _"God damn it Kenneh…" I whisper to no one as a few tears slid down my cheeks. Somehow I knew that he _had_ truly lost hope.

And now I know that I have too.

...There really _is _no turning back now.

* * *

Kyle's P.O.V.

I had watched Cartman leave with a bit of interest. It was different because, as much as he tried to hide it, I could see the pain in his gaze. I have always suspected him of caring that Kenny left, even if he tries to hide it.

…He just hasn't been the same. Everything he does just seems to be half-hearted. Almost as though half of it was to try and impress Kenny. To make up for all the things he said to his "best friend". But I think they probably had fun when Stan and I weren't around. That's probably why Kenny continued to be his best friend. It was because he saw something in Cartman that we didn't.

To be honest, I miss him too. I'm sorry I did that to him, especially after the episode in the cafeteria moments ago.

So, I take after Cartman, for the first time in my ten years knowing him, and decide that I too am going for a walk.

Stan seems baffled, confused and slightly sad that everyone is leaving him. I smile softly to myself. It's kind of cute. …In a totally un-gay way. But a part of me sees what Cartman has always claimed to see. The "Emo" part of Stan. I mean, Emo _does_ stand for emotional. Those people just tend to feel emotions to a greater extent. Particularly anguish.

I start walking through the halls and look around at the groups of friends hanging out.

…It reminds me so clearly of the old days, I pinch my arm to make sure I'm still here and I'm not going to suddenly hear Kenny ask some kind of perverted question from behind me. …Not that I'd mind right now.

But I also see the people that don't have a group. They're the "loners", the people who are just _there_.

…It seems an omen of the things to come. Almost as though this is how we'll end up because of my stupid mistake.

…I never thought it would be me to destroy our wonderful friendships. I always figured it'd be Cartman. …And that it would be me who would have left… or got kicked out.

I'm feeling glad to get out of there. The atmosphere of that place is generally depressing to me at the moment.

I head towards the area where we all hang out at lunch. We play football, the seven of us, and to make it even Tweek is the referee since we don't want to hurt him too bad.

After I walk a ways out towards the forest-y part of the school grounds... I hear heavy breathing, the kind you hear when someone cries, from Cartman's tree. We call it his, because no one else goes there and he kicks everyone out anyways. Last year, the only person he let sit there was… Oh.

But somehow I knew it was the former, rather than the latter. Kenny would have gone farther away. He wouldn't have gone somewhere where _we_ would be able to find him. I know better than that.

"Eric…?" I asked softly. Somehow, in a desperate situation, he doesn't spaz when I call him that. It's almost as though it connects us as human beings.

I hear a quiet "go away, Kahl" from behind the tree, although I can tell it's forced. I can tell some part of him wants someone to be around… even if it's me.

I slowly make my way around the tree, and nearly gasp in surprise.

…There's Eric Cartman. _The _Eric Cartman, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest… crying. This is taking more of a toll on him than I originally thought.

I kneel in front of him and he refuses to look into my face, choosing instead to keep his own buried in his arms.

"What's that…?" I mutter, more to myself, as I notice a chain dangling from one of his hands.

His hand tightens his grip on said object and I'm afraid I might know what it is. After a moment he raises his head, but still doesn't look at me. He's staring at the chain. Well, more like _through _it. Almost like it raises memories, you know?

…And then it dawns on me. "Eric….? C-can I see it?" I'm surprised when my voice quivers slightly.

His eyes flick towards me for a second. It was enough for me to see the redness around them and the hurt within them. He hesitates before handing me the chain. I read it.

…'best'. And then I realize why he's so hurt. It's finally hit him. He lost the person that was probably dearest to him. And that's when I understand.

It was a moment of insanity, although maybe it wasn't, and I hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry, Eric…"

I expected him to push me away, but he was probably also insane at the moment, because he hugged me back and buried his face into my shoulder. It was finally unearthed. There was no more hope for them. And we just sat there and tried to imagine it was okay.

…But we both knew it wasn't.

* * *

Eric's P.O.V.

Wait. What the fuck am I doing, hugging the enemy? I quickly shove the Jew-bitch away and glare at him menacingly. …He looks so confused. Well, he won't be for long. I dangle the necklace in his face.

"This is your fault. It's because of you I've lost my best friend!"

He looks at me, still slightly disoriented because of the excessive amount of force I used to shove him off. He recovers quicker than I expected though. "What the hell are you talking about?! You voted him out too!"

He points at me accusingly, and I feel the sting of his words. It was almost as if it happened all over again. "I…" I can't think of anything to say, and look at the ground not caring if I show weakness to him. Not now. I'll probably care later though.

I'm silent, and I notice something about myself uninterestedly. I seemed to have lost weight since Kenneh left. I smile softly to myself, albeit it's sad, and recall that he used to hug me a lot. He said I was warm and squishy. I made it so that it wouldn't change...

But …I just don't care anymore. There's no best friend to come up to me and hug me randomly. No best friend that cuddles up to me on cold nights when we hang out, because he gets cold far faster than I do. Hell, there's no best friend at all.

I hear Kahl get up and I whisper softly, "I didn't want to. …But I was scared."

He looks over at me. "Scared of what?" I don't think he expects me to answer. It's not like me to admit a weakness to anyone. But somehow, I do.

"Being next."

And somehow that's all I had to say. But even though he walked away then, I knew he was aware of what I meant by that because he said simply: "You might have been anyways."

And it was then that I wondered if anyone really cared about me. But as I look back on everything I've done, I wondered why they cared as much as they did, for as long as they did.

I'm going to leave them. But first… a sinister smile creeps onto my features.

...I should go out with a bang.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh no! What's Eric planning to do? Well, you'll get to find out soon enough! The plan is to get Kyle and Stan to not be friends anymore, naturally. You know? Create a HUGE ruckus about them being douche bags to him.

Will you be nice and click the little button to help a poor authoress out?


	5. Stirring Up the Past

**A/N: **This Chapter is centred around Christophe and Gregory, because it's always fun to have a few side stories. ;) XD

* * *

**Chapter 5: Christophe and Gregory.**

(September 12th)

Normal P.O.V.

Gregory looked up from his book to see Christophe enter their English class. Gregory hadn't paid attention to him for quite some time now, but the episode in the cafeteria had made him remember. Who he _was_ at the very least.

* * *

Gregory's P.O.V.

Well, well. I haven't seen _him_ in a while. I mean, I've seen him, but I haven't really _seen _him. He looks the same as he did back then almost – he's just older and more mature looking. I'm surprised he didn't go down the road I did, myself.

He looks over and instantly looks away, although I'm not sure if it has anything to do with the beautiful promiscuous girl who just happens to be asking me to help her with something even though it's obvious she understands what she's asking better than even I do. It's a poor job of flirting, but it's quite endearing, so I "help" her.

After I'm done, I feel a little daring, so I write down a quick scribble on a piece of paper.

"Hello, Chrissy. Remember me? It's been a while…"

And I hesitate for a quick second before tossing it, with surprising accuracy, on his desk.

He opens it.

Moments later, I feel a thump against my head and I pick up the note from the floor. I sigh. Somehow I think it hit its target.

The note reads: "Gregory. …Why are you talking writing to me?"

It was a simple question, but somehow it hit a nerve because I knew it held contempt within. So I write back: "Because I want to talk to you. Hasn't it been long enough?"

It comes back. I had forgotten how neat his writing was… "It's been too long. So… why now?" Ouch. Somehow I knew there was a hidden meaning in that. Something like: 'Why are you bothering? You had your chance.'

But I still have to try. "It's been too long."

It takes a while for the note comes back this time. There were many scribbles and cross outs, but it's still legible. "I haven't forgotten. I don't know if I can forgive you." Is basically what it says.

I feel a painful twinge in my heart as I write back. "I know. But… I'm still sorry. ……..For everything."

I look over and watch him contemplate what I had written. I try to mentally convey the meaning of that. The feelings I felt. ...He may have understood, because it came back one last time.

"If you're serious, meet me at the back of the school after class. Oui, that means you would have to cut class to explain. …Make your choice." …There was no question about what I would do now.

I'm far too distracted for the rest of the lesson to do any work, so I just let my mind drift off to somewhere beyond the unknown. It thinks of scenarios of things that could happen. But it also tells me that I may not want to skip class, regardless of whether or not I believe I have to do this.

I ignored the rapid beating of my heart as I walked down the hallways to the meeting place. I don't think I had ever skipped class before.

...But I suppose they would understand. Maybe.

I push open the back doors, and an all-too-familiar sight greets me.

Christophe is leaning against the back of the school, his bag dropped carelessly next to him and a cigarette dangling out of slightly parted lips. His eyes flick towards me and he removes the vile cigarette and puts it out -- with his _finger_.

Despite his calm expression, I couldn't stop myself from crying out. "Are you _insane_?!" He raised an eyebrow and stared at me like I was stupid. I blushed embarrassedly and elaborated. "I mean… doesn't that hurt? Putting it out with your finger?"

He looked at me and shrugged. "You came."

His eyes were still the same brilliant color they were before. They also had this quality that made it seem as though they could stare through you into your soul. It made me slightly uncomfortable. "…Yeah. I guess I did."

And for some reason, I think that was all he needed from me.

* * *

Christophe's P.O.V.

"I wasn't expecting you, Gregory." It was a statement. It was that simple. I hesitated. "Thank you, but…"

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow slightly. After a moment, I finished what I had to say. "Zis doesn't change anything except ze fact zat zere eez no longer contempt harboring within me."

"W-what?" he seems hurt by my words. I couldn't help it. I cannot re-trust zat easily, let alone raise an old friendship zat easily. I tell him just zat.

"Perhaps one day." I say simply after a pause, before grabbing my knapsack and pushing open the doors to the school.

Another moment passes, and I think about the last thing I said to him as I left. But not really _what_ I said but more _how_ I said it. It seemed almost… wistful.

Oh well. I head to ze weight room because, thankfully, eet eez my last class. Lifting weights tends to clear ze mind of insignificant things. A small part of me wonders if zis eez insignificant…

I hoped eet was.

* * *

Gregory's P.O.V.

I watched him leave with a bewildered look on my face. After a moment, I wasn't surprised when it turned into a scowl. "That… that… _asshole_!" I growled softly, ignoring the painful twinge I felt in my chest.

I punch the wall before leaning against it, defeated. Looking down after a moment, I notice my hand is bleeding more than it should be. And it was getting on my shirt.

I sigh. Oh well… as long as nobody freaks out about it, it should be fine.

Besides, why is this bothering me so much? I've got a _plethora_ of friends. Something this insignificant shouldn't bother me. I mean, that's what it is, right? Just an insignificant detail.

Something that would be nice yet doesn't bother me. Does it bother me? I hope it doesn't. I can't afford to be distracted any longer. I've got far too many things to do to be distracted by something like this.

I shouldn't have chosen to be late for drama. Although I suppose that was…. dramatic in a way. _Christophe _dramatic at least.

I pick up my bag and head down the hallway at a quick pace, muttering to myself. "But did he really have to be that… blunt? I mean, honestly. He could have been… nicer about it, at the very least. Oh, who am I kidding… look who I'm talking about!"

I wasn't paying attention, and bumped into… oh dear. I really don't have time for this.

"Move out of the fuckin' way, asshole!" growled a very disgruntled Eric Theodore Cartman. Oh my… had he been crying? I smirk to myself. Maybe he'll go away if I point it out.

"What?!" He asked… well more so _barked_ at me. Like an order! What the _hell_ is this kid's problem, anyways? Honestly, speaking to me like that.

"Get out of _my_ way, crybaby." I say with surprising sharpness. He looks mildly surprised, and I see the slightest flinch capture his chubby, muscular frame. So, I suppose I was right.

"Shut. Up." He growls dangerously, and I take my cue to do so. "Oh? What's this?" he questions me when he looks down at my shirt. "Used your shirt as a tampon did you, prissy boy?" I see him smirk, although it seems hollow, and he shoves me out of the way and keeps walking towards his… choir class, I believe?

I chuckle and keep walking, trying to ignore my hand's consistent pulse for attention. But I can't help but wonder…

Why was Cartman crying?

* * *

Gregory's P.O.V.

"Ah, there you are Gregory! I was wondering where you went! We can't have a play without the lead boy, can we?" The drama teacher greeted me with a warm smile and led me into the drama room. "Which comes to the question: where _were_ you, young man?"

"I had to take care of something, Ms. Corral," I said, trying to sound apologetic. My drama teacher is a striking woman who can't be older than her early to mid twenties. She has long, black hair, these beautiful brown eyes and an amazing figure (such as most of the boys so happen to point out. Despite all this, you can tell she's older at least by a few years than her appearance, because of the knowledge she seems to possess and the way she carries herself.

It's with the air of someone who not only _knows_, but has been there as well.

"Oh! What on earth happened to you, dear? You're covered in blood!"

"I'm fine… really," I insist.

"Ms. Testaburger!" The teacher called over a beautiful young woman who happened to be my ex, and the leading lady in the play. Oh well, at least she didn't call over one of the promiscuous girls.

"Yes?" came a musical voice as said girl walked over towards us.

Ms. Corral mentioned to me as she addressed Wendy. "Would you be so kind as to escort Mr. Carter to the nurse's office?"

She gasped softly as her eyes flicked towards me. More blood than I thought, huh? "Yes of course, Ms. Corral! Come on Gregory, we have to get that hand of yours patched up."

She grabbed my uninjured hand and gave it a brief tug before she let go. I followed her with a small thankful smile, although I'm not sure why. I guess it's just her.

After a moment, I inquired softly: "Wendy…"

She looked over at me. "Yes, Gregory?"

I hesitated slightly. "…Should it hurt to stir up the past?"

She looks at me, mildly confused yet interested in where this was going. "It all depends on what you're stirring up." She says after a moment.

"What if it's a friendship?"

"Depends on the friendship… and how it ended. …Why?" She looks over at me, and I see a bit of Ms. Corral in her. It would make sense. Wendy would be likely to go down that path.

"Because…" I feel her stare penetrate me and suddenly I can't speak. "I was just wondering. That's all."

"Oh." I can tell she's not convinced. "Well, here we are. Let's clean you up than, shall we?"

I'm slightly confused for a brief moment before I realize why we were here in the first place. My hand. "Right. Let's do that."

And later, as we practice our lines, I feel a little more than I should. But that's just because it's a familiar scene. "_Perhaps one day, we will be friends again…"_


	6. The Fight

**A/N: **For some reason, this is one of my favourite chapters so far. It amuses me to no end. Especially the ending. XD I hope you enjoy it, too!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Stirring Up the Past**

(September 12th)

Christophe's P.O.V.

I shouldn't 'ave pushed myself so 'ard in the weight room. I 'ave a fight, after all. Not zat he would pose a threat or anything… but still. I do not like zis feeling of fatigue I possess.

I force my way through ze crowd of noisy students and finally breathe in the scent of ze outdoors. I instantly light up a cigarette.

...Zat's better.

Ah, 'ere he eez. A few minutes late, but so was I. Eet eez impossible to escape zat place when you wish to, and too easy when you don't.

"Ready, fat-boy?"

He growls in response. I see ze fire in his eyes, and I know eet's on.

* * *

Eric's P.O.V.

"Ah, hello Eric!" greets my choir teacher, Mr. Limoux. He's a tall, graceful man with greying hair and a friendly smile. "Glad to see you've come to join us. Take your place and we'll go over what we learned yesterday, shall we?"

My voice joins the chorus of groans in the room. It's not as though we were forced in here, we just want to sing. Right now we're learning how to read notes and adjust pitch accordingly. Unfortunately… I'm usually the guinea pig.

It's flattering… but at the same time it's really gay. I mean, I'm well aware my voice is developing quite nicely ever since it stopped cracking but, there are still other people that can sing too. This _is _a choir class after all.

"Ms. Edwards!" Mr. Limoux called out to a girl on the top row, just behind me.

Jennifer seemed slightly confused. She hadn't been called on before. But even _I've_ gotta admit she has a nice voice, so I don't see why not.

"Yes, Mr. Limoux?" She questions.

"Would you demonstrate how to perform the first line on the handout you just received?" He was telling her to, but it was kind. Ugh. The way a teacher talks to you to make it seem like they're only asking, not telling.

Wait? Handout? What handout? I look down at my empty hands and mentally slap myself. '_Great observational skills, genius.' _A voice in the back of my mind taunted me.

Mr. Limoux probably noticed my empty hands, because a sheet was held in front of me suddenly. "Wonderful organizational skills, Eric." He teased.

"Alright, anyways," he continued, "would you do that for us?"

Jennifer bit her lip and nodded. "Alright." It was silent for a minute until her voice filled the room. It had a wonderful pitch that most of the people in this room couldn't achieve and it was especially pleasant to listen to.

When she was done, there was a round of applause (started by the teacher of course). "Well done, Jennifer!" came Mr. Limoux's voice over the applause. "And that, class, is how it's done. Take note of it. Now, I'll give you five minutes to practice with a partner and we'll try it together, alright?" He looked around at the class before he let us go. "Ready… Set… Time starts now!"

* * *

Craig's P.O.V.

"Math class. Goody." I said with… anti-enthusiasm. (If that's even a word.)

Stan let out a forced laugh from next to me. "Come on, crayola. It's not _that_ bad."

I groan and shove my pockets, choosing to stare at the floor. "You _still_ remember that?" I ask miserably, recounting why I have that nickname.

"Of course I do! Do you really think I'd let you forget something like that?" I look up as Stan sticks his face in front of mine and grins widely.

I instantly flip him off. "Fuck off, Stanny-boy." At the mention of that, Stan scowls. Oh yes, Stanley. If I've gotta live with the shame, so do you.

"I thought I told you not to call me that!" he exclaims, obviously outraged. I shoot him a look, and he huffs childishly. "…Fine. I won't call you 'crayola' anymore. But only if you promise not to call me 'Stanny-boy'. It's _way_ too flaming, dude."

I shrug it off and keep walking. Thank god Rubik's Cube's class is on the other side of the school. Gives me more time to hang out. He's called "Rubik's Cube" because his name is Mr. Rubio and his lessons are so confusing, even the smart kids don't know what he's talking about.

The worst part is, is that we have a homework check every class. But it's okay, because everyone just writes down bullshit that _looks_ like it's right.

Ah. Such are the joys of not having to hand it in.

"Dude. …..Dude. …..DUDE!" I hear Stan, and come out of my zombie-like state. "Finally, geez. Zombie moment or what, dude?"

"Knock it off…" I groan. God, this kid can be a real pain in the ass sometimes…

"Hey, you couldn't blame me if I got to the point of explaining why you've got that nickname, Craig." He says with a 'hey-it's-your-problem-not-mine' kind of shrug.

I give him the finger and step into our math class; throwing my bag at the seat at the back I claimed as my own.

…I smile to myself. It's fun to be a jerk. Since the teacher is always five minutes late, I just kick everyone outta this spot. Now, no one in my class sits here. S'all good.

As I'm rummaging through my bag for the shit I need for this class, a paper ball flops down on my desk. I open it and immediately scribble 'not funny, stanny' on it before crumpling it back up and throwing it at Stan's head.

The jerk drew a fucking crayon… and to make it worse, it was done _in_ crayon!

God, that was such a long time ago.

Basically, back in grade one I had a _huge_ temper tantrum and beat some kid up because he was hoarding the crayons I wanted.

Everyone forgot when we went to grade two… except Stan. Although I didn't find out until recently he still remembered.

…the bastard.

Thinking quickly, I write a note on a piece of paper once the lesson starts.

"Yo, Stanny… what did'ja think about lunch today? It was kinda weird wasn't it? I mean, the fight I announced to everybody and the thing with Ken-doll…"

I doodle a laughing face and a couple of 'LoL's because 'Ken-doll' refers to the metro-phase we went through in elementary school.

I throw the note, after I scrunched it up, at him but it decides to be a little bitch and land on his desk instead.

After the people who were gonna fight left, I stood on the desk and announced it to everyone. "YO! FIGHT AT 3 O'CLOCK AT THE TENNIS COURTS. IT'S BETWEEN CARTMAN AND CHRISTOPHE! BETS TO BE MADE ON SITE! …Yeah, no betting station this time – it's last minute! BE THERE… OR BE SQUARE! PEACE OUT MOTHER FUCKERS!" And with that, I had climbed off the table and continued eating like nothing happened. Of course, the whole cafeteria was _buzzing_ with excitement but that's because we _thrive_ on this stuff. In plain English: there's just nothing better to do.

A few minutes later the note comes back and it reads: "Yo, Crayola… it was messed, man. The fight'll be pretty cool though. This kinda reminds me of the fight between you and Tweek back then. I feel bad about the thing with Ken-doll (LoL) though… I've always been meaning to ask you why you didn't let him in…"

There was a doodle of a confuzzled face at the bottom – question marks and all.

'_What do I write for a response_?' I wonder. Without thinking my hand moves across the paper as I listen to the teacher, the same dead expression on my face as the rest of the class.

My hand stops and I read what I wrote. "Yeah, I wonder who'll win. What do'ya think? It does. LoL. And uh… I wanted to. I just… couldn't. I dunno why. I guess it's because he would technically be back in your group because we were joining forces? Hell, I really don't know. …I still wonder what would be different if I did. "

I throw it back and don't pay attention for the rest of the class.

What if I had? Would me, Token, Tweek and Clyde be able to stand looking at the pain in his eyes or hear it in his voice when he saw them? Should I have let him in anyways?

It doesn't matter anymore though. I can't change the past. I'm only human after all. And I guess even I can make mistakes.

* * *

Normal P.O.V.

If you looked upon the scene, you'd think it was an old fashioned Wild West shoot out. Both Christophe and Eric were standing there, immersed in a stare down. The large crowd of students had already made their bets and were watching silently, waiting for the action. The only noise the crunching of snow beneath the feet of those too restless to be still and the few last stragglers arriving on the scene or placing their bets.

Then, Eric lunged forward and everything suddenly sprang to life.

The two boys were locked in a fist fight and the crowd exploded into cheers and chants, either side of the circle dissing the other half, both obviously wanting the money the other half had to offer.

Suddenly, the crowd quieted slightly as Clyde's voice rang out over the crowd. It was for the people in the back who couldn't see very well. …Or at all. It was a big crowd.

"Cartman throws a nice jab to Chris' right – Ooh! DENIED!"

Cheers and boo's are heard throughout the restless bunch of students.

"Now they're locked in a struggle to stay up – and throw the other off balance! They seem to be almost equal in strength… Or Cartman's just fat…"

"EY!" Cartman growled looking over at Clyde. Bad mistake.

Clyde gasped. "Shit! Chris has taken advantage of Cartman's temporary lack of focus and has swept Cartman off his feet. …Only to be pulled down in the process!"

A pause before, "Jumping Jesus! It looks as though they're trying to have kinky butt sex!"

A mixture of cries of outrage and laughter broke out. Amidst his bouts of laughter, Token playfully smacks Clyde on the back of the head. "Niceeee… but if you're gonna do it, do it right."

Clyde grins sheepishly at his best friend. "Sorry, man." He raises his voice again before continuing, "It's a constant struggle for domination! Chris – Cartman – Chris – Cartman… Will it ever end?!"

Finally, both boys break apart and circle each other. Christophe seems a lot more tired and injured, but Eric is on his way there as well.

They look at each other and somehow the fire erupts again – more powerful this time. They remember why they were fighting in the first place.

'_For Kenneh…'_

'_For revenge'_

And with that, they both launch themselves in one last attempt to be the victor.

Clyde's voice rings out once more. "Holy shit! When did they suddenly get this energy? They both obviously want to come out on top!"

Everything is silent and then -- "Ooooooooohhhhh…" And a bunch of guys grab their nuts in sympathy for the fallen.

Clyde's voice shakes. "I-it seems as though when Cartman punched Chris in the face… he fell backwards… and kicked Cartman in the nuts. …With steel-toed boots."

A moment later, Christophe stands up and cheers erupt in the crowd.

"CHRISTOPHE WINS!"

At the cry, the winning betters go over and congratulate him – before they go and cash in on the money bet by team Cartman. Although, everyone goes over to Cartman and sympathetically offer him a word or two. Three being the most common.

"Shit… that sucks."

Eventually, it takes about fifteen minutes, Cartman is able to stand and walk – semi-normally. Everyone goes home after that.

"What are you gonna buy with your ten bucks hard earned money?"

"I dunno. What're you gonna do with yours?"

"Buy something cool and rub it in the faces of those losers."

"Sounds like fun! ...Can I join you?"

"Sure!"

…And so, life goes on.

* * *

**A/N: **Haha, like I said. The ending is great. But the guys wouldn't be the only ones grabbing their crotches. I would too. :o That would be very painful. X.x

Review?


	7. Alone Time

**A/N: **W00t! I was grounded, but I'm back now. I'm the time i've been away, I've written... six chapters along with the epilogue. It's funny how I've written the ending even though I'm not done the story yet.

Anyways, enough ranting. On with the sho... Story!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Alone Time.**

(September 12th)

Kenny's P.O.V.

I wasn't surprised when I found myself at the swings. I smile sadly. It was where I went ever since I needed to be alone when I was younger. I had found myself going here almost every day since _it _happened. The wind dried my tears and made me numb to the world. Almost as if everything was okay.

…Even if it wasn't.

I find a seat on my favorite swing; the higher of the two. I drop my bag next to me, and I find it strange how I still have it after all that. I guess I knew I'd need it. I always do when I'm here.

I open it and grab my sketchbook. I took an art class, and in the first week I'm already Ms. Crockett's favorite student. I guess that's because I'm good. But I don't know… that's just what everyone says.

I flip through it and I stop at a picture of an angel. It's a nude picture, but she's all bent up so you can't see anything. It's my favorite, because the wings are all nice. There are feathers all around her, but there's no halo. It's okay though, because real angels don't have halos.

A tear falls onto the picture. It falls because I remember that this wasn't just _my _favorite, it was Eric's favorite too. He liked the pose and how realistic she looks. I chuckle softly when I recall him saying that it was "like a playboy centerfold, only much more pleasant to the eyes".

I think the reason why I'm so "good" at drawing, is because I have a photographic memory and a helluva lot of spare time. Stan thinks I could become a great artist, and Eric supports me all the way. Kyle does, but he says I should try to do well in my other subjects too, because it's really hard to make a living as an artist.

…I could say the same thing to him about being a writer or a basketball player. I sigh. He sure likes to put a heavy rain warning on my parade days.

But I suppose... in a way it's alright. I mean, he doesn't want me to end up like my parents any more than I do.

Maybe I'll get lucky. Who knows?

For now, though, I'll just sit here and reminisce about the past. Because if I don't do it now, and get it out of my system, I could do it later. And that would be bad, maybe.

I close my eyes and start to draw. I lose myself in the pencil, the paper and the memories. My breathing becomes a bit harsher, rather than calmer as the drawing starts to come to life. Finally, as my pencil slows down, I know it's almost complete. I've never had to look, just feel and _know_ where the pencil was… where the pencil lines and paper were. But as I open my eyes, a feeling of emptiness grips my chest.

I start to cry again.

Because it's them. I remember this night. It was a great night. Greatest sleepover ever, it was. They were all sleeping peacefully, but I couldn't, so I watched them sleep instead. Eventually, I guess I fell asleep because the next thing I knew I felt a hand on my head and fingers through my hair.

I had fallen asleep on Eric's chest. Looking around I noticed that Stan and Kyle were still asleep. Ah, that's why there was no loud, boisterous awakening this time. I guess he didn't wanna get caught in such a compromising position.

I was going to get up, but he ended up pulling me closer instead. My breath hitched in surprise and I looked up at his neck. I couldn't see his face.

"Eric…?"

"Just stay. You're keeping me warm."

I felt him pet me in a comforting way, and when I looked up again I swear he had been blushing. His neck was a nice, healthy pinkish shade. I remember smiling. His heart had sped up too. He was cute when he was nervous.

And I swear to God… I… never mind. It's not important anymore.

* * *

Stan's P.O.V.

The three of us walked home in semi-silence. Kyle and I bet against Cartman and, since he was walking with us, I don't think it would be wise to talk about our earnings.

But, there was also this tension that seemed to kill whatever words formed in my mouth before I could say them. It was between them. That much was obvious. But… _why_ was it so tense?

Cartman had his head down in shame, but to most of the world it looked like he was just thinking. Walking and thinking. It was a favoured past time of his, but it was different. Shame about the fight, yes… but… maybe… sadness too?

I've always been able to read people a little too well. Some people find it rather creepy, so I keep it to myself. I don't think it's such a big deal. I'm just empathetic. That's all.

But Kyle… although I can read him really well, he can easily keep things from me if he wants to. Which is what he's doing now. I can tell, because he's doing a bad job of it. Well, a very good bad job, because I can barely discern anything.

He seems almost guilty. _Almost_. But the way he's glancing at Cartman…

"Hmm…? What's up, dude?" From the way he was looking at me, it's obvious I was staring a little too long. And that's pretty long for us. I think he may know what I was up to. Just have to play it cool I guess.

"Nothing…" Suddenly I stop. We all do.

Cartman stares intently for a moment, trying to hide the bewilderment on his features. "Guys… why is Wendy walkin' to Kahl's house… When Kahl's not even there?"

The same thought was on all our minds. I mean, I'm sure she was aware Kyle wasn't gonna be home yet. And they're friends. So… why else could she possibly be there? She obviously knew about the fight, but she didn't stay to watch it I guess.

My stomach churns slightly. I've long been able to hold down my stomach's awkward impulses, but it'll still not be so… normal around her. Never has, never will be. She's a good friend of mine now, but I'm still mildly protective.

My attention turns to Kyle. He's surprised as well. "I guess I should go then. To see what's going on. Uh… later guys!" He bolts in the direction of his house, turning to wave at us when he arrives to his destination.

For a long moment, nothing was said. What could be said? It was a pretty random scene that took place in the span of about a minute or so.

"…He so has a thing for that ho." Cartman says suddenly. I can't help it when I burst out laughing at the sheer suddenness and absurdity.

Cartman is indignant and doesn't bother to hide the slightly hurt look in his eyes any longer. It's almost as though he's pouting. "Whaaaaaat?" he whines. "It's so true. And you know it! She's almost as smart as the fuckin' Jew for Christ's sake! They'd have a grand ol' time doing homework and humping trees."

I laugh a little less, although it's still funny. "Lay off the friend shit, dude." I say, still slightly put out by my friend's sudden departure.

Cartman shrugs. "Just sayin'…"

I sigh. "Right. Well, my house is that way… so I'm gonna go now. Later."

Cartman just sighs. "Fahn.. fahn.. Later fag."

I still wanted to know what happened to the two of them, but I wouldn't push him about it. It's Cartman after all. He wouldn't tell me.

But now I head home for some much needed R&R. I'll attempt to confront it when the time comes.

* * *

Eric's P.O.V.

I barely had time to watch Stan turn the corner, when Wendy left Kyle's house. Hmm… I don't believe she had that book before, so did she just go to get something? Makes sense, I suppose.

But also not like Wendy to forget something. Not unless she's in a rush. And she's usually never in a rush. Even though she's swamped with honors classes and leadership and she's a representative in the grade 9 section of student council… Not to mention she's bombarded by guys constantly because frankly, she's _gorgeous_. She is _by far_ one of the most beautiful girls in the school.

As I slowly make my approach, I realize I know she's beautiful… But I don't really care anymore. I never really had a chance. I blew it before I even said a dozen words to her. It was my words to everyone _else_ that did it. That kiss she gave me in Elementary school was probably some stupid dare or something.

At least she had the decency to not look grossed out.

"Um… Hello, Eric." Wendy greeted, slightly confused. "Why are you walking this way? Going somewhere?"

"Uh… not really. But since I happen to be," I took a deep breath, "could I maybe walk to home?" It was a little rushed, and I was hoping she wouldn't catch it.

Wendy was now officially amused and curious. Of course, there was the part in her that told her it was me. And that I wasn't to be trusted. Actually, I was quite surprised when she said yes.

"Okay." Wendy started walking and I kept pace next to her. "I know why you're here, and I know what you want to ask."

I almost stopped. "Eh? That transparent, am I?" I was slightly put out.

She smiled slightly. "You weren't keeping it hidden from me."

I smiled back at her. It was sincere. No matter how much of a dick I am to her, she can always manage to put her annoyance to one side and be nice… even if it takes a while for her to suppress whatever horrible emotions are directed at me.

Wendy sighed. "I can't tell you, you know." It was obvious that she had said that a few times. I wondered if anyone knew what she was doing.

"Oh." I refused to press the matter any further. I have too many things on my mind right now to be bothered by something like blackmail or something else stupid like that.

Now this time we _did_ stop. "'Oh?' That's all I get from you? Normally you look to know everything that happens. …What happened to you?"

"Too much other stuff to worry about." I flash Wendy a half-hearted smile. "I might try pressing you later for details, if there's a good time for you."

My bad attempt at humor didn't escape unnoticed. "Kenny, right?" It was a whisper. So soft, I almost didn't catch it.

I visibly winced. "Yeah, he's one of them…" I said through gritted teeth. I can't afford to show weakness again. Not after… earlier. Too late.

My gaze at the ground intensified, my breathing fueled by hurt and anger. I raise a hand to my temple. Intense emotions in an empty brain equal a headache apparently.

"Eric…" her voice held concern.

"I don't want to talk about it." I snarl at her.

"Come on…" she was trying to help, but I didn't need it. She was forgetting who I was. I grip her wrist tightly and she gasped lightly in pain.

"Go. Home." I say each word as though it's a sentence. "You stupid bitch." I mutter as I turn and cross the street, determined to get home as quickly as possible.

It was difficult to see, my vision being blocked by unshed tears. Suddenly I broke out in a run. The only coherent word floating in the empty space between my ears was '_home_'. It was like a mantra being played over and over again.

'_Home. Home. Home. Home. Home. Home. Home. Home. Gotta get home.'_

I slam open the front door in a fit of rage. I swear my vision is going red. Almost like in a movie. I can't really control myself. It's almost frightening.

I kick off my shoes and they hit the wall. Hard. My scarf, hat and gloves follow, only they go half the distance and make no sound.

My mother walks over from the kitchen. "Eric? Are you--?" She gasps at my disheveled state. She seems almost frightened by the rage. Because usually when I'm angry, I'll scream. This was quiet. And dangerous. And we both knew it. "W-would you like something from the kitchen, Eric?"

I shake my head. "No." We're both surprised by how calm my voice is. Considering my hands are clenching and unclenching and there's a permanent glare etched into my features. I can't imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of my strange amber eyes right now.

"I'm going to my room."

She nods, seemingly content that I can at least speak. "Please talk to me when you're feeling better alright?"

A curt nod is all I give her before I grab my bag and unintentionally stomp up the stairs.

I don't remember the next twenty minutes very well, only that there was much banging and destruction. When I came to, I was standing in the middle of what looked like the aftermath of a hurricane.

Things were smashed, broken, ripped, torn and most were on the opposite side of the room. The only thing that was untouched was my bed, minus a pillow I seemed to have stabbed numerous times, considering it had a knife stuck in it.

I collapsed on my bed, sick and tired. I was sick of crying and tired of being angry, but here I was, tear streaked and angry with my face buried in my good pillow. The more the anger melted after time, the more I cried.

The emotions I felt today after school, were so sudden and unexpected… Oh God, it hurts to breathe. I lay there for about a half an hour trying to compose myself before my mom comes in. I wish she hadn't. I could have cleaned it up a little bit, first.

She surveyed my room before coming over and instantly pulling me into a hug. I like it when she's a mom. But no one knows this. Not even her.

This is nice, so much so I almost calm instantly. I can tell she's surprised. I'm about to fall asleep, I know. "I'm tired, I'm hurt… and…" I hesitate even though my voice is a whisper.

She keeps stroking my hair but has stopped using the soothing noises. "Yes, dear?"

I swallow. My voice has suddenly left me and my throat has gone dry. I shift and reach into my pocket, pulling out the necklace. _Kenny's_ necklace.

I yawn. "Mom… I want my best friend back…" I say softly.

As I'm going to pass out, I feel her take the necklace.

Her voice is soft, and I feel her heart go out to me. "You'll get him back, Eric. I know you will." I smile slightly and then fall into the deep, calming recesses of sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **It's so sad! Ahhhh! Poor Eric! Poor Kenny! Poor... everyone caught up in this problem! \

Ah, well. When you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go is... Left right and up!


	8. Broken Routines

**Chapter 8: Broken Routines**

(October 11)

Eric's P.O.V.

It's been nearly a month since that fateful day. I've hooked the necklace around my neck as a constant reminder of my mission. Funny how in that entire length of time, I did nothing.

What _could_ I have done? He hates me, that much is certain. A hand comes up to unconsciously grasp the heart around my neck. It's a habit now. I _think_ emotion, I _feel_ emotion, but I don't really _show_ emotion anymore. I'll recover soon, I tell myself. I'll feel to my heart's extent when he's here again.

There is an unspoken routine now. Has been since then. We get up and walk to the bus stop, get to school, and find out Kenneh's not there again. We don't really talk much, and when we do it's forced. Almost like we have to try and talk for our sakes.

We go to classes, eat lunch and try to talk again. Here it's normal, and none of us know why. It's a refreshing twist in an otherwise uneventful day.

Then, we fall into a familiar funk as we head back to classes. Unspoken goodbyes are a constant reminder that this is here… and it's not going away. We are not a 'we' anymore. But still we try, even knowing that. It's pathetic.

After school, we walk home and I debate going to Kenneh. I know where he is. I know where he _has_ been. I just haven't had the heart to go there. What would I do? What would I say?

Would I even be able to speak? Or do _anything_?

That's my biggest fear. That I would lose the only opportunity I have. He wouldn't go back there if he knew I would toil around. I would too. I would go there everyday. I'm relentless when I want something, and he knows it.

And right now, it's all aimed at him.

Kahl still hasn't said anything about Wendy's trips to his house. He claims neither he, nor his family know about it.

Hmm… curious. I'll get to the bottom of this soon. But for now…

I've resolved to go see him. Today.

I watch the clock intently, and the last 5 minutes seem to be the hardest, and bring the most doubt.

I habitually grasp the necklaces around my neck, and suddenly, the doubt is gone. I can breathe easily again.

RRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGG!!

I snap out of my trance somewhat forcefully as the kids around me rush towards the door.

Mr. Limoux beckons me towards him and I sigh. Grabbing my bag, I take a seat across from him on one of the stupid foldout chairs.

"Eric…" he starts, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "You are a tremendous student, but I'm having concerns with your performance lately. You've had a remarkable passion, but you seem so distracted, that even though you have that passion, it's almost… not enough. You understand, right Eric?"

I nod, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

"There we go again. You aren't paying attention. What's on your mind?" Mr. Limoux leans forward slightly and looks at me with a friendly, yet calculating gaze.

I blink, and instantly tear my eyes away from the clock. Five after 3. He could leave at any time. "It's nothing, Mr. Limoux, but I appreciate the concern."

He seems reluctant to let me go. I can tell he wants a straight answer that will let him know why one of his best students is suddenly so… distant. "Alright," a sigh, "you can leave. But please-"

I cut him off. "Yeah, try harder, focus, all that jazz. Right, thanks. Bye!" I wave and dash out of the classroom. Ten after 3. I have to go. Now.

The stragglers turn to stare, because it wasn't that often that I would be in _this_ much of a hurry. I literally sprinted past them at speeds I never thought I could reach.

I continued to run past my tree, past the edge of the school grounds, and into the forest. Not that much farther now.

I slowed down, and made my approach semi-silently. I didn't want to show up too suddenly _or_ give him a chance to run. I was going to have a middle ground, a chance to call the shots.

I calm down my breathing. It seems too loud for this, even though it's not.

I hide behind a fair-sized tree and look for him. He's on his swing with his back to me. If I would've taken the path like most people do, I would have ended up in front of him. Thank God, I strayed from it.

* * *

Kenny's P.O.V.

My breath hitches. Someone's there.

I wait a few minutes and just listen, taking my parka hood down. The footsteps stopped. Someone's not just there, they're _watching_ me. They know I was here.

I refuse to give into the urge to call out to them, wanting to see how this plays out. I know it's stupid, but you never know.

The silent crunching of snow is evident and I hum a tune softly, wanting to seem like I don't know better. I doodle in my sketchbook. I only look up when I sense the other's fear.

A voice. "Kenneh…"

Fear and hurt grip me, keep me frozen in place. I swear I've almost stopped breathing entirely. Oh God, it's _him_.

He takes another step forward and I stand up slowly. I can't move any faster. As ha takes the last couple of steps, I've managed to put my stuff in my bag and turn around.

'_Why is he_ Here_?_' I wonder frantically.

I look at him, study the changes. He's thinner, sleep deprived, hurt and uncertain. I hope I didn't do that to him. How could I have, though?

"Eric…" I whisper. I bring myself to look directly into his eyes. The pain is evident, but the hope and joy shine through. He's _happy_ to see me again.

I swallow a lump in my throat. '_This wasn't supposed to happen!_' My mind screams at me. '_Run! Don't let yourself break! He hates you remember?!_'

I slowly take a step back. I can easily outrun him, but he's so close…

He reaches behind his neck and unclips something. A necklace. He holds it out to me, and I take it wordlessly. '_Best…_'

Oh God… I feel tears form at the corners of my eyes. He wants me back.

"Please, Kenneh? Ah'm so sorry." And with that he pulls me into a tight hug.

I relax slightly. This feels right. I know he means it, but that's what's strange. He grips my shoulders tightly and I glance helplessly into his hauntingly beautiful amber eyes. So full of strength and… happiness. He thinks he's won.

'**Maybe he has…**' A voice inside me whispers.

'_No. REMEMBER WHAT HE DID! …He cast you out! He doesn't really mean it! He's lying to you! …It's what he does BEST, remember?!'_

My eyes snap open and fear grips me. "YOU LIAR!" I screech. Tears stream down my face and I push him back forcefully. He fell easily from shock.

"S-stop lying to me. You want me back so you can hurt me again. I-I don't wanna be hurt again."

Eric looked at me helplessly. I had the upper hand now. He knew it.

* * *

Eric's P.O.V.

I feel so helpless. God, I didn't know what it had done to him. It almost looked like I had him back at one point, but he suddenly pushed me away again. Figuratively and literally.

"I'm not trying to hurt you… I'm trying to _stop_ hurting you. I miss you. I want my BFF back."

He whimpered softly. I was getting to him. I knew it.

So of course it surprised me when he just picked up his bag and told me: "You'll have to stop wanting that then, won't you?"

I was left on the ground, silently cursing my retarded existence for the next hour in the snow.

I guess I was wrong, then. Maybe he doesn't want to. Am I really that stupid for clinging to something like this?

One thing was for sure though, the next day. Kenneh came back and for once, a routine was broken.

But I was hoping foolishly that a few more would be, too.

Maybe one day.

Maybe one day, I'll

Maybe one day, I'll wake

Maybe one day, I'll wake up

Maybe one day, I'll wake up from

Maybe one day, I'll wake up from this

Maybe one day, I'll wake up from this dream.

Maybe one night, I'll wake up from this nightmare.

And when I do, it'll just be another broken routine.


	9. Differences

**Chapter 9: Differences.**

(October 12th)

Kenny's P.O.V.

As I walked through the hallways, I had a huge feeling that everyone was looking at me. That all the whispers were about me. Why wouldn't they be? I mean, I haven't been to school in a month. I know it was stupid to do that, but what else could I have done?

Be made fun of? Be pitied? I didn't need to be any more of a fucking charity case than I already am. But worst of all, I think, would be seeing them again. Or, at least, seeing Eric again.

He hurts inside, I'm guessing. After what happened in the park I probably won't go back there. But… he probably doesn't think I will either. Even so, he'll wait there for me. He'll wait because he's so fucking _persistent_.

He asked the school if he could help me get caught up on all my work! For once I'm _glad_ he's a self-centered, manipulative asshole. They wouldn't let him do it. You wouldn't believe the sigh of relief that I let out. Ha, it probably could've started a hurricane!

But… I don't want him to have another chance to get me to be his BFF again. I want to hate him so much. I want to refuse to believe anything he says. But it's _hard_.

That expression he had just before I left… It was so – broken. When my mind starts to wander, somehow it will go to that incident two days ago. I remember what was said so clearly. It's become like a mantra in my mind.

"_I'm not trying to hurt you… I'm trying to stop hurting you. I miss you. I want my BFF back."_

My heart clenches at the memory. '_Why is he doing this _now_? Why didn't he seem to care this much before? Why do I want to go back to him despite what he's done to me?'_

But somehow I take strength in the void and all my doubting thoughts are vanquished. Maybe if I'm not the Kenny he once knew… maybe he'll let up. I mean, it's flattering but, he's really starting to piss me off.

With this thought in mind, I set off to be different. To be someone _other_ than me.

* * *

Kyle's P.O.V.

(October 15th)

Things have suddenly become complicated and sucky.

1) Cartman's planning something. I'm pretty sure it's big and involves me in some way, shape or form.

2) Kenny's back. I don't know why, but I have a feeling the fat-ass did something.

3) Kenny is acting weird. Probably also Cartman's fault.

4) My brother needs a tutor for English. Turns out he's not as much of a genius as my parents thought.

5) The tutor is Wendy. This is weird because she comes over when I'm not there and, unfortunately, my mom is home sometimes.

6) My parents don't know why she comes over _or_ that Ike needs a tutor.

7) If they found out my dad wouldn't care. Everyone has their moment.

8) If they found out, my mom _would_ care. Enough said.

9) I hardly have any friend time anymore.

10) There are many unknown hostilities from everywhere, and it's directed at everyone. No one's safe anymore. Sigh. School sucks.

11) My brother has a girlfriend.

12) Stan is very, very, _very_ pissed off at Ike. He freaked out at him yesterday for no reason! So naturally, being the good big brother I am, I stepped in and defended him thinking Stan would talk to me about it.

13) Stan hasn't said two words to me in the last two days.

I remember the event well, but I don't really want to talk about it. It reminds me that we're still not on good terms. So, now I hang out with Token, Tweek and Clyde since Craig has decided to ditch with my best friend. Losers.

On a side note, I hope the jerk talks to me soon. I'm starting to be pissed off too.

* * *

Stan's P.O.V.

(October 15th)

For the last little while, I've been staring at the same imperfection on the picnic table without saying anything. I'm pretty sure Craig's getting pissed off.

An annoyed growl sounds from the other side of the table. Okay, maybe he _is_ pissed off.

"God dammit, Stanley!" he barks at me. "What the fuck is up with you?!"

I don't jump at the sudden sound, but my heart skips a beat. It's not often that Craig yells in anger. And when he does – watch out. But somehow, I don't care.

"Nothing." I refuse to tell him about the incident. It's between me and Ike. And somehow Kyle got involved but he won't say anything about it. Psh. He's only _playing_ at innocent, the bastard.

* * *

**Flash Back**

**(October 1st)**

**Stan's P.O.V.**

"**Stan!"**

**I turned around and was surprised when Cartman jogged towards me. I was surprised because we didn't talk much anymore, and because he was **_**jogging**_**. I mean, it **_**must**_** be important.**

"**Yeah? What's up, Cartman?"**

"**I know what Wendy's been doing over at Kyle's house!" He seemed quite proud of the knowledge he possessed.**

"**How'd you find **_**that**_** out!" I couldn't keep the awe and jealousy from altering the tone of voice I used.**

**The smirk grew wider. "I have my ways…"**

"**It took you this long to find out when you have '**_**ways'**_**?" I snort. "Jesus, Cartman. What the hell is up with you anyways?"**

**He flinched. "Nothing, hippie. Now, do you wanna know what's going on or not?" When I went to say something he cut me off. "And no, the Kosher-kid won't tell you shit. There's no point in going to him. Believe me; I tried the same thing on Wendy."**

**I sigh, knowing he's won. I must admit, it's pretty cool that I'll finally get to know. I mean, it's been over a month since then. "Alright, then. Fire away."**

**He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a picture. "Here. Make your own conclusions."**

**My eye twitches slightly. "Make my own conclusions? I thought you said you'd tell me!"**

"**What I know I've guessed with looking at the evidence. You have to do the same thing since you won't like mine very much." A chuckle follows Cartman's statement.**

"**Pfffft." I blow my hair out of my eyes and give him a half-hearted glare. He just turns and walks away then. After watching his retreating form for a moment, I glance down at the picture.**

**It shows Wendy with her arm around Ike and pointing at something on the table. The two of them are smiling at each other and it's sickeningly cute.**

**Kyle's off to the side watching with interest although you can see a hint of worry on his features.**

'…**_Are they going out? That's a five year age difference! …Oh well… uh… love knows no bounds or some crap like that, right? …Right?'_**

* * *

**More Flash Back**

**(October 1st)**

**Stan's P.O.V.**

"**Hey, Wendy!" I waved at her.****She turns around and smiles brightly at me. "Hi, Stan! What's up?"**

**I shrug in a noncommittal fashion. "Nothing much, I guess. What about you?"**

**She gives a small shrug as a response. "I've been mildly busy, I suppose. I've got to help with the Halloween dance. Speaking of which," She holds up two design templates, "what one do you like better?"**

**I study the templates carefully for a moment. "That one," I say, pointing to the one on the right. "It's more practical. There's plenty of space to sit **_**and**_** dance, so it's all good."**

**Wendy smiles at me. "I came up with that one," she says with a humble blush, "I thought the same thing when I thought of it, actually."**

**I beamed at her. "Alright, Wendy! You were always the best of everything."**

**The blush darkened. "Right, Stan," she says with a giggle, "whatever you say. But anyways, what do you need? I'm sure you didn't come all the way over here just to discuss the dance with me."**

**I was thoughtful for a second. How to say this? "Well… I had the sudden urge to ask you something random."**

"**Oh, really? Fire away."**

"**What do you think of Kyle's little brother Ike?" I blurt out. "Because… I mean… you go over to Kyle's house and stuff, but you've never told me what you think of him or anything." It was a little rushed, but I think she gets it.**

**Now it was **_**her**_** turn to be thoughtful. "Yeah, since I guess I told you my opinion on the rest of them…" A pause. "Well… he's kind… and smart… and funny… and he writes great stories even though," a slight hesitation, "he doesn't seem to have time for it…"**

**I can tell she's lying a little about the stories, but the way she described him… **

"**That's… pretty cool," I said with a slight smile. It's forced though. I only want her to be happy, and if Ike can make her happy… then I guess he's ok.**

"**Oh! I'm sorry Stan, It's a Wednesday. I have somewhere I have to go. It was nice chatting with you, I'll see you tomorrow!" With that said, she heads towards the general direction of her locker.**

"**Yeah! I'll talk to you later!" I call after her. '_Hmm… Interesting…'_**

* * *

Stan's P.O.V.

(October 15th)

"Stan… Stan… Stan!" Craig reaches over and hits the back of my head with a little more force than necessary. "God damn it Stan! You spaced out again!" he continues as I grasp my head, trying to alleviate some of the pain.

"Well, Sorry," I say, my voice dripping in sarcasm. I must admit, I haven't been myself lately. I've just been a big jerk.

The scary thing about that is: I just don't care. Nothing's going right lately, it's all going wrong. I think that even now, Craig is getting fed up with me.

"Oh for fucks sake." Craig stands up. "I'm leaving you here to vent out your Emo-ness."

After a moment, I stand up and start walking. I keep my head down and don't pay attention to where I walk until I hear a familiar laugh from around the corner. _'Kenny…?'_

I turn the corner and watch as said blonde was laughing along with Damien, Pip, Butters, and Christophe…

My heart clenches at the sight. _'That could be us…' _I silently curse Kyle for being so damned stupid. Actually, I realize a lot of things about Kyle right then.

He's _definitely _not as cool as I thought he was. Not by a long shot. Bravely, I walk in their group's general direction.

I hear a stage whisper. The kind you use when you say something that's supposed to be 'private' but you want other people to hear. It's a great way to talk about people. "Hey, Ken. Isn't that that Stan kid?" It came from Damien.

Man, did that kid hit puberty now that I think about it. His voice is deep and rich, a voice fitting for a demon like him. It's a far cry from the squeaky voice he possessed in the third grade.

…I shudder at the memory. That was _not_ a good day.

Kenny turns his gaze to me as I stop walking. "…Yeah. My name's Stan. What's it to you?" I drawl, turning towards the black clothed boy next to me.

He growls softly. "You're a dick, you know that?"

I thought for a second. I thought about everything I've done and decide what to say next. "…I'm a jerk, but you're only calling me a dick because you don't have one."

Damien's eyes glowed red with hatred. "How dare you speak to me like that, mortal! I'm-"

"…The son of Satan. Yes, yes. We all know already. Who cares?"

"I am the one who will control your fate if you continue to act as you are, Stanley Marsh."

I put on a fake enthused voice. "Goody! I'm so excited! We'll have a grand old time, now, won't we?" My words were flooded with poison.

I saw the punch coming before he even raised his hand. I could see it in his eyes. What I didn't see, was Kenny stopping it. The scenario had eluded me with ease considering the non-existent terms we were on.

Damien looked over at him and huffed. "Fine."

And all it took was a look. Impressive, Kenny. I let a small smile grace my features for a moment.

Kenny just sighed. "Why are you here?" He sounded tired. Like he didn't want to deal with anything at the moment, let alone me.

I looked away for a moment. I didn't like how his gaze seemed to see through me. I was supposed to read others, not get read myself. "Where else would I be?"

I look back into his eyes. They're calculating and alert. "With Kyle, Craig …Cartman, one of your football buddies… anywhere but here?"

"The jocks are stupid, Craig ditched me, Cartman's not really my friend anymore and Kyle's a douche." I guess that summed it up. "Where else _could_ I be?"

Kenny's eyes flickered down for a moment. "Anywhere but here."

My eyes narrow for a split second before I sigh. "Right." I start to walk away before I stop. "…Goodbye, Kenny."

A slight hesitation before I hear, "…Goodbye, Stan."

And with that I walk away from them. I have a feeling it will be the last time I speak to him in a long time.

* * *

**Flash Back**

**(October 11th)**

**Normal P.O.V.**

**It was a week or so after Stan confronted Wendy, and things really hadn't changed much. Wendy still left the next Wednesday, Stan was still curious, Kyle still wouldn't talk about it and Eric had his own ideas. Kenny was acting strangely but people gave him a little bit of respect with it. Whatever the rest of the group did must've been harsh to deliver such a powerful response from the quiet blonde.**

**Stan was walking home from school alone when he spotted Ike with another girl. This would've been fine if the two hadn't been holding hands and acting all cutesy-like.**

**Furious, Stan walked over to the two and started yelling at Ike calling him and dick and other not-so-nice names. Ike was confused and needless to say, so was his girlfriend.**

**She gave Ike a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek and scurried off, rather frightened of the older raven haired boy.**

**The two quickly got into an argument, with Ike pleading innocent to whatever Stan was trying to pin blame to him.**

**Kyle noticed the argument and quickly stepped into to defend his little brother from his furious best friend who was just happening to be an asshole at the moment.**

**The two best friends got into a heated battle of words, Kyle playing the innocent card. This of course got Stan a lot angrier. So therefore, he stomped off being all Emo-like.**

**The two brothers exchanged glances of exasperation, and confusion. This, after all, was not like Stan – period. He never acted like this without reason.**

**Kyle told his brother to go after his girlfriend while he headed home to vent. He was quite - well, not happy at the moment.**

**After a while, Kyle decided to go to bed, hoping Stan would eventually talk to him about it.**

**But of course – you know the rest of the story.**


	10. The Outcasts

**A/N: **Um... I'd like to apologize in advance if nobody likes this chapter. For obvious reasons that I won't dwell on at the moment.

**Disclaimer:** If anyone has forgotten, I do not own South Park. If I did, I don't know what would happen, but it would probably be bad.

**Damien:** Dude, there are warning in this chapter. -holds up piece of paper- Warning: this chapter contains minor... **_shonen-ai_**?! What the fuck, Jena?!

**Me:** Uh... ON WITH IT!! :)

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Outcasts.**

Damien's P.O.V.

I stare up at the ceiling and sigh before rolling over onto my side. The curtains are billowing gently in the breeze, casting the room in glimmers of starlight.

My mind is foggy, lost in the limbo between unconscious and alert. In a few minutes I'll be fully awake, so it's futile to try and fall back asleep now. I roll over again. The clock reads 2:44 am.

It takes me another moment before I realize the space next to me is unoccupied. As far as I can remember, I had invited someone over for the night.

Turning over yet again, I notice the curtains fluttering innocently. The doors had been closed earlier.

A silhouette barely noticeable, save for a shock of blonde, stands out on the balcony. I remove myself from the comforts of my bed and pull on my housecoat. I hope he was sensible enough to do the same. It's getting colder as the days drift by.

"Can't sleep?" A soft voice questions as I make my way across the balcony towards my companion.

"No. You can't either?" My voice is hoarse from lack of use. I know it's not from sleep, since I've been awake for the better part of an hour. This makes me question how long he's been out here, since I didn't notice him get up.

"I've been thinking…" he says, his voice wistful. I hope he isn't going to depress himself again. He's been doing that lately. Ever since he had that encounter with that Marsh kid. Or maybe even before that. I don't know anymore.

I sigh and he looks over at me. I must be betraying my emotions, because he gives me a slight smile. "Not about that."

This makes me curious. "About what, then?"

His expression softens. "Us."

My eyes widen slightly as he leans in and captures my lips with his own. Not even a moment later, my sane mind is dissipated as his tongue darts out to gently lick my lips. I push him gently against the railing and ease through the small gap between his lips with my tongue.

My efforts are rewarded with a soft intake of breath. He tastes like a mixture between mint, cinnamon and… something else. Almost like that new "Wrigley's 5: Rain" gum that they sell now.

Suddenly, everything starts to dissolve around me and I black out.

* * *

Damien's P.O.V.

When I come to, I'm in my bed and I feel heavy. It's a bit hard to breathe and I can sense it's about 6 o'clock in the morning.

"Good morning…" comes a sly voice from above me.

I growl pathetically. "S'too early, Kenny. Ge'rroff…" I slur.

He seems to ignore me. "What were you dreamin' about, Damien?"

"I dunno," I lie convincingly.

"Must've been pretty good, though, eh?" I can feel him grin as he leans down and pulls the covers away from my face.

"I dunno what you're talking about," I tell him through a hooded gaze. The damn dream has affected me I think.

"What's this, then?" He asks, brushing his leg deliberately against my groin as he gets off.

I hiss softly. "…Fuck." My cheeks go red and I glare at my companion. "God damn it, shut up!"

He tries to apologize through fits of laughter, and fails miserably. Even a deaf blind man wouldn't buy it.

"You _so_ owe me!" I grind out.

Kenny seems to calm down a bit. "Owe you what? It's not as if I could suddenly get rid of your massive boner." He snorts.

I laugh nervously. "You're right."

Kenny grins. "Besides, why would I want to bone you? I've got Eric for that."

The scene melts with Kenny moaning Cartman's name for the worst possible reasons. I fall in darkness for what seems like forever, and a tear falls from my eye. I watch at it floats upwards gently and catches an invisible light source.

* * *

Damien's P.O.V.

(November 8th)

My heart clenches and I wake up.

The first thing I do is fight the urge to throw up. After a moment, I seem to have succeeded. I open my eyes and they adjust somewhat quickly because the kitchen light is on. Though I would have been able to see perfectly in the dark.

...The kitchen light? I sit up slowly; vaguely aware I have a pretty bad hangover. I shiver. I seem to have broken out into a cold sweat, I note. Taking a moment, I channel dark energy through my body in an attempt to rid myself of this rather frustrating ailment.

Content that I won't die upon entering the light, I remove myself from the couch and make my way towards the kitchen.

There are liquor bottles strewn about, and I notice a figure lying across one of the recliners. From what I can see, it's Christophe. Reaching over, I alleviate some of the pain he might experience on waking.

Then it's off to the kitchen. I lean against the doorframe to let my eyes take in the scene before me with interest.

I'm greeted by the sight of Kenny with his back to me covered by a blanket. I let a small chuckle slip by my lips when I realize he's eating straight out of a container of rocky road ice cream.

His iPod is next to him on the island counter and with my demonic hearing and sight; I can tell it's playing Razorblades by Story of the Year.

_This wasted so many nights_

_And again I've wasted so much time on a friend_

_To young, too proud to understand_

_So this is the end_

_We should have seen this coming_

_We should have seen this…_

I sigh and walk over to the blonde, placing a hand on his shoulder somewhat reluctantly. This is no longer a dream, of this I'm certain. I'm not used to giving any form of comforting contact. It comes with growing up as an uncaring demon.

Kenny looks up at me for a second and smiles briefly, holding up a spoon full of ice cream. Most people would have asked why the prince of darkness had a container of rocky road in his freezer. He doesn't need to. He just knows.

Truth is, I have a soft spot for the stuff. Well, I have a soft spot for chocolate anyways. Actually, everyone in our group does. Even Christophe if you can believe it. I chuckle as I reminisce about one of our amusing times together.

I swear we should start Chocolate Lovers Anonymous. I lick the spoon thoughtfully. There would have to be at least ten pounds of the sweetness at every meeting. I chuckle again. It would be gone within 10 minutes.

Kenny breaks the silence. "What's so funny?" he questions softly.

My breath catches in my throat when I realize that was the same tone of voice from my first dream…

"Huh..? Oh. I was just remembering how we found out that we all liked chocolate so much…" I trail off in thought and Kenny laughs.

"Oui, zat was pretty funny," Christophe adds, attacking the ice cream with a… spork? We give him looks and he shrugs. "It's all I could find."

Kenny thinks for a moment. "You know… It would be better reminiscing with Pip and Butters. Although… I guess it's all for the best, considering we're hung over and eating rocky road ice cream like it's the only thing keeping us alive."

I look at him and state: "You're in pain."

I'm offered a sarcastic smile. "No, really?"

I reach forward and cup his cheek with my left hand. I close my eyes and start a slightly effective healing process. Demon magic doesn't truly heal; it just stops it from hurting. It gives us an advantage in battle.

But somehow, I think it's healing him. He gives a sigh of relief, free from whatever ailed him previously. "Thanks, Damien," he whispers with a smile.

I pull my hand away and stare at it curiously. "Yeah, no problem." I reply, not really thinking.

Christophe chuckles. "This is just your regular post-hangover hangout at 4 in the morning, right guys?"

Kenny grins. "Hells yeah, Frenchie."

And maybe it was. "I wouldn't know. I've never hung out at 4 in the morning after I've gotten rid of a hangover before." I say with a shrug.

The sounds of light laughter echo within the confines of my lonely prison. Although, maybe it won't be so lonely anymore.

The curtains billow innocently in the breeze and maybe it's good. I've finally let my heart open a little. And I'm glad.

I'm just not happy with how faggy that sounded.


	11. The Outcasts II

**Chapter 11: The Outcasts II**

(November 12th)

Phillip's P.O.V.

I remember how I met Damien. You can't exactly forget something like that though. The feeling of getting lit up like a firework never leaves one's person, you see.

But we were in elementary school then. He only wanted to be accepted. So in theory, he's the same as me. A similar past, yet a completely different outcome.

I myself am prided on being a joyous individual, whereas Damien dislikes most variety of… well… everything.

But as clearly as I remember how we met, I also remember the second time we did. It was in the summer of eighth grade, right after he came back. I remember reading a book on a park bench when he came up behind me.

* * *

**Flash Back**

**Phillip's P.O.V.**

**A shadow came up from behind me and blocked the sunlight. "Hmm…?" I turn and look up, my eyes squinting against the bright halo around the person.**

**It was obviously a male. In all black too! I wondered how he survived in this heat. Everyone else was dying. It was a usual heat spell – for normal places in the world, like England, but here it's South Park. Enough explaining, I suppose. I think you get it.**

"…**Phillip?" questioned a deep voice.**

**I was stunned. "Phillip…?" No one ever called me by name anymore. I was just Pip. Even **_**I**_** had almost forgotten.**

**The figure shifted slightly, uncertain. "That is your name isn't it? Or have I got the wrong person?"**

**I hesitated before patting the spot next to me. "Yes. It's just that no one calls me by name. It's… different."**

**The young man sat down next to me. "Ah, yes. It's Pip, isn't it?"**

**I nodded and turned back to my book. It was futile to try and make out who he was. The sun seemed to always be in my vision when I turned to him.**

**He hummed thoughtfully. "It's quite hot out today, isn't it?"**

**I nodded. "I was going to ask you why on earth you were wearing all black on a day like today!"**

**He shrugged and I heard a rustle of fabric. "Ah, that's better. I've always found the temperature of the surface to be much more extreme than in hell. Wouldn't you agree?"**

"**Maybe it is. I haven't been there. Sorry." I say reflexively before I stop. "…Hell?"**

**A low chuckle sounds from next to me and I can finally look over. The prince of hell in all his shirtless glory is the one who happened to sit next to me.**

"**Damien." I greet simply, involuntarily bristling slightly.**

**His smirk fades to a frown. "Not happy to see me?"**

**I sigh softly. "I'm sorry. It's not easy to forget how we parted last."**

**Damien's tail twitches and he mumbles something, his crimson gaze darting away. It was weird talking to him as a demon.**

"**Hmm? Could you please repeat that?" I ask, genuinely curious.**

**Damien sighs exasperatedly. "I'msorry," he repeats and I've barely able to discern what he's said. But I get it, so I smile.**

"**Apology accepted."**

"**That easily?" he murmurs wondrously.**

**I nod and smile wider, invoking a small smile from my companion. For the rest of the day, we just hung out just like old friends would.**

**End Flash Back**

* * *

Phillip's P.O.V.

(November 12th)

Or as much as we could, considering Damien's the Emo King. I giggle at the thought. That was a good day.

But I still wonder what happened to the old him. The 3rd grade Damien. The one with the mullet, squeaky voice and scrawny build. Ha-ha, he was like me, although I never had a mullet.

Between grades 4 and 8, he underwent a massive change. He lost the mullet, underwent puberty and bulked up into the dashing young man he is now. Although I suppose the reason why he looks so mature already is because of the demon blood flowing through his veins.

Although, even knowing this, I don't mind that he's a demon. He's a pretty good guy, and that's all that matters. You should only judge someone by their actions, not their background. All it took was that apology.

An indecent person would have avoided it, but he didn't. And for that, I am grateful.

* * *

Leopold's P.O.V.

(November 17th)

It's a Monday, and somehow everyone seems kind of happy. Normally not many people are happy on Mondays. I think it's a nice change!

"What're you guys thinking about?" I question my friends, who all seem deep in thought.

Pip smiles. "The past, Butters."

I smile back and nod appreciatively. "Thanks. What about the past? You don't seem to be talking about it together."

Christophe shrugs, a slight frown apparent on his features. "Different things. Things zat were good, things zat were bad, things zat we miss, things zat we wish we could experience again…"

"Or things we wish we could change." Damien continues for him.

"Oh, ok. I was just wondering because you all seemed happier today." I tell them honestly.

Pip looks down almost shyly. "Well, I was thinking of the day when Damien came back."

Christophe looks thoughtful. "I was remembering ze god times I 'ad with Gregory all throughout grades three to seven."

Damien raises an eyebrow. "I was wondering what it would be like if I had been born human."

Kenny breaks out of his trance. "I was thinking about something that happened about two months ago," the blonde mutters sadly.

Christophe's frown deepens. "What happened two months ago?"

Kenny flinches slightly then sighs defeated. I wonder what happened the same as everyone else. I place my hand on his shoulder in a comforting way and he starts to speak.

"Remember the day when I came back to school?" There's a slight pause before we all nod in agreement.

"Well you see… It was Eric." A growl or two is heard and I squeeze Kenny's shoulder. We all know about his friendship with Eric. It's hard not to. I still wonder how he could have done something like that to Kenny. I wonder a lot of things.

"Well, he came and found me at the park. IT was the day before I came back."

We all listened to his story in shock and awe. I even shed a few tears. It was such an emotional story.

A hesitation before he speaks again. "I still remember what he said. It sticks with me. '_I'm not trying to hurt you… I'm trying to stop hurting you. I miss you. I want my BFF back.'_…"

My heart feels his pain at that moment. I know he would go back were he not afraid. He doesn't want to be let go of again. Not like that.

"Kenny," I whisper, "I know you want to go back, I can see it."

Kenny looks down. "I'm afraid."

"I know," I tell him, "So am I. We all hate seeing you like this."

Pip bites his bottom lip slightly. "Butters is right, Ken. We really _do _hate seeing you like this. But the only way you'll ever truly be happy again is if…"

A long silence sifts through the five of us. We know it's true, but we don't know what to say.

Kenny looks at the four of us wide-eyed. "Are you telling me to…?"

Christophe sighs. "We're not telling you to. Do it when you're ready, Kenny."

"And don't worry, if he tries anything I've got your back!" Damien pipes up good-naturedly. Although… I don't trust that smile.

"Thank you. I didn't know you all cared this much," Kenny tells us on the verge of tears. But they're the good kind. I can tell because he's got a huge grin plastered on his face. "I'll do it. I'll talk to Eric. For you guys."

And although we're all smiling, there's a feeling of dread. _'Did we do the right thing?'_

* * *

Christophe's P.O.V.

(March 17th)

Months pass and eet's now Spring break. Kenny has still done nothing to rekindle some kind of friendship with ze Cartman kid. For his sake, we 'ave not mentioned eet.

What would we say, anyways? 'Bonjour, Kenny? Have you followed our advice and become friends with ze fat bastard yet? Oh? He fucked you over again so you decided not to tell us? We're sorry, we didn't know.'

Lunchtimes are now upbeat and positive. We talk about anything and everything involving happy. I swear Damien is suffocating, and I am close to eet.

Maybe things will go back to normal soon enough. I'm sick of being positive when I could possibly lose a friend soon. Kenny might leave us when he talks to ze fat one. We don't know. We can only guess.

But something unusual happened last week. Kyle walked up to Stanley, called him a bastard, punched him in ze face and zen walked away.

Stanley 'ad a broken nose and was sent to ze hospital.

Ze only thing I 'ad to say to zat was as follows: "What ze fuck crawled up his ass and died?"


	12. The Plan

**A/N: **Okay, listen. There's another warning in this chapter, but don't worry. It's just a strong P.O.V. Also, I've only heard about the Faith +1 episode from people, I haven't watched it myself. Forgive me if I've gotten any of the details wrong.

**Plus:** I have no idea what possessed me to write this chapter. O.o" I really don't.

**P.S.** I wrote that essay off the top of my head. It's what I believe, politically. :) Maybe I should use it at school sometime. XD

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Plan**

(May 14th)

Token's P.O.V.

"My name is Token Williams – or at least, that's what my birth certificate says. In the fourth grade I boldly changed my name to Token Black(1). It was a testimony to how I was the only black child I had known. To how I would sometimes get treated as unequal.

I remember the stereotypes well. When Eric Cartman proposed that he wanted to start a Christian rock band, he said that I would be bassist. I was. He said that I would have a bass guitar in my basement. I did. But when he told me I could play, I told him I had never touched one in my life. But even so, I tried. Just to prove him wrong. But do you know what?

I could not only play, I was amazing. It doesn't matter, though. It was founded on false precepts. It angered me for him to make such assumptions based on a stereotype that African-Americans are good at playing the bass.

Because of everything I've been exposed to, I've decided to be the middle man. The neutral party. It is like this with my friends. I prefer to talk things out, and because I am not biased, I make a good negotiator. To be honest, I have no favor towards one side or the other in politics either.

They both have their pros and cons, their views and their intolerance. Their ignorance and intelligence. One day, there should be someone with a similar view as me in the oval office. Someone who will not make decisions based on their feelings. Someone who will not make promises he or she cannot keep.

It would be good, because the decisions would be for the best. The country would be sound without someone war-strung or stupid in the office. It is a shame both of these qualities belong to our current president Mr. George W. Bush(2).

I believe that this would be one way to improve our country. Another way would be to…"

I watch as my teacher flips through the remaining two pages of my essay. "You explain someone like you, but you would not wish to be in politics, would you Token?" it's a question, but she says it rhetorically. Almost as if she knew the answer.

I had never really thought about it, so I took the opportunity. After a moment, I've come up with an answer. "It's inevitable, Ms. Porter," I tell her knowing well that she won't like my answer, "it's in my blood."(3)

* * *

Token's P.O.V.

(May 15th)

I'm the neutral one. The middle man. I am these things because I am friends with everyone. I do not dislike someone more than someone else, save for perhaps Eric Cartman. But my dislike is shared by many. I do not like someone more than someone else either, save for Craig, Tweek and Clyde.

I'm the listener. The advice giver. I will listen to my friends when they feel the need to vent, because I am a keeper of secrets. I know things about some people that others wouldn't even _dream_ of knowing. And because I know, I give them advice to potentially combat their issues. Things are most likely resolved afterwards.

I'm the truth teller. The honest man. And I am not involved with any conflicts throughout my friend circle. But I am trying to find out the gist of what's going on. And by doing so I will be discreet.

I am going to throw a massive party while my parents are out of town in two weeks. I'm inviting all my friends. From doing this, I will be able to see who hates who and I might even be able to question some of them when they're pissed drunk. Who knows?

Maybe if I'm lucky, I will even be able to patch things up between some of them.

...But somehow… I doubt it.

* * *

Token's P.O.V.

(May 16th)

Token walks up the steps of the school with determination. He had e-mailed all of his friends and they were to meet him in room 113. He reserved it this morning because he was awesome and could do that. They should be there in a few minutes. That's why he wanted to be there first. So they didn't end up fighting and leaving.

When he got there Kyle was already sitting comfortably, a book open in front of him. Token walks over and smiles, "You've always been punctual, haven't you Kyle?"

Kyle looks up momentarily confused but smiles at the sight of his friend. "Of course."

After a minute or two of light conversation, they are interrupted by the arrival of some of the others. Walking over to them are Craig, Clyde and Tweek.

"Hey guys," Craig greets them casually, flipping them off.

Kyle and Clyde simultaneously roll their eyes and Token takes the opportunity to return the favor. He had taken to doing it to show Craig that he did it unawares.

"Sorry. Bad habit," Craig mumbles, looking away.

Behind them come Wendy, Bebe, Heidi, Red and Jennifer. Token had taken the liberty of inviting them as well.

He figured that they would be able to help out with the bad attitudes. Get the party moving, you know? He was also sure they would be able to help weasel information out of his friends. Women were good at getting what they wanted, after all.

Walking just behind the girls was Gregory. Someone Token took the liberty of knowing because he was on the same intellectual level, and he always enjoyed a new challenge. Kyle enjoyed the same thing as well. It was an unspoken thing between the three of them.

The eleven of them enjoyed some more light conversation, and Token noticed this. The problem obviously wasn't here yet. But it would be coming soon, of that he knew.

When Eric and Stan entered the room, Kyle went stiff. This wasn't unnoticed by many of the room's occupants, they just chose to ignore it.

Likewise, Stan bristled angrily and almost seemed to want to turn to leave. He was given a look by Eric, who also seemed to regard Kyle with mild distaste. Defeated, Stan walked over to the side of the room opposite of Kyle and Eric just came in a little bit, obviously not in the mood.

Token was confused. He knew about the fact that Kyle broke Stan's nose, but nothing more than that. _No one_ knew any more than that.

And Eric? Well, he's always had a dislike for Kyle. But it's never been from his mere presence before. At least, not as far as Token knew.

The conversations were slightly forced due to the tension. Token was glad that Kenny showed up after a moment that seemed a hell of a lot longer than it should have.

"Hey! I brought friends!" The blonde exclaimed with a grin, attempting to ignore the tension. He looked at Eric and smiled sadly. It was as it always had been. But Kenny went to say something this time.

Eric seemed to brighten at the fact and Kenny just looked down. "Hi… Eric." And with that said, he turned and walked closer to the one that had brought them all here.

It may have been a simple gesture, but to Eric it meant the whole world. Kenny was talking to him! Finally! And Eric was not gonna ruin this in any way.

Gregory looked over at Christophe and looked down at the floor. But Christophe noticed this and went to stand next to him. He said nothing, and did nothing, but suddenly there was a small smile gracing Gregory's features.

Token noticed all these things but decided to leave it for now. "I'm sure you're all wondering why you had to get up ten minutes early, right"

A bunch of nods and grunts were his response.

"Well, I didn't want this to get out all over the school. You see… my parents are going away in two weeks and…"

People's eyes widened. They knew what this meant.

"I'm going to have a party. You're all invited, too."

* * *

(1) References to the fact his original last name was Williams, but in later episodes it was referred to as Black. I think this was shown in the episode where Token sings and his name is shown on the billboard. I can't remember...

(2) That is my own personal opinion of the American president. I myself am Canadian and proud, but I do like America. The only thing I do not like is it's government. I will always retain my opinion as such. If I've offended anyone, I'm sorry.

(3) I have a feeling his parents work in politics somehow. It would explain his financial and social status, no? Meh, if not, let's just pretend for the sake of the story, shall we? :P


End file.
